


TLC

by Persiflage



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Bottom Phil Coulson, Canon Disabled Character, Cooking, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Inhumans (Marvel), Make Daisy Happy, Mentions of Daisy's Previous Relationships, Older Man/Younger Woman, POV Phil Coulson, Skye | Daisy Johnson's Superpowers, The Retreat, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 04:51:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6597481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil takes care of Daisy after she's injured saving some Inhumans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	TLC

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts), [RowboatCop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/gifts), [BrilliantlyHorrid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/gifts), [Skyepilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/gifts), [nausicaa_of_phaeacia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa_of_phaeacia/gifts), [notcaycepollard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcaycepollard/gifts).



> Written for the Make Daisy Happy mini fic fest on Tumblr for the prompt: Coulson tends to her when she is sick/hurt.

"Let me," Coulson says as Daisy struggles to get her gauntlets off.

She huffs, sighs, then holds out her arms towards him, and he carefully eases them both off, then sets them aside on the table. He runs the tips of his fingers up her arms, one after the other, checking for cuts or bruises, but finds none.

"Can you manage your suit?" he asks, a bit diffidently.

She swallows, then looks away. "It'd be easier if you do it," she tells him.

"Okay." He knows she's not fond of asking for help, even when she's injured, so it means a lot to him that she's letting him assist her. She dislocated both shoulders today, and although she heals fast, and Coulson has already reset them both for her, he knows she's going to be in pain still. He also knows she's not going to resent the pain since it means she saved three lives – three young Inhumans, who'd otherwise be dead, are instead currently on their way to The Cocoon along with their mother; they're guarded by Joey and Elena.

He unzips the jacket of her fieldsuit, then eases it off, noting, but not commenting on the little winces that accompany its removal: he's being as gentle as he can, but they both know he's going to hurt her even so.

"It may be time to add some weight training to your routine," he suggests as he folds the jacket over the back of one of the chairs by the dining table.

She sighs. "Yeah. Think I'll ask Mack about that."

"Good idea," he tells her. He swallows hard, his head down, as he peels the pants of Daisy's fieldsuit down her legs. "Damn." The word is only a mutter but she picks up on it anyway.

"What's wrong?" He looks up at her, trying to keep his eyes from her gorgeously toned legs.

"I should've taken your boots off first," he observes, and is surprised when she chuckles a bit.

"Mind if I sit down?" she asks.

"Of course not," he says quickly, and reaches over to drag one of the chairs away from the table so that she can take a seat. He leaves her pants bunched around her knees while he works on getting her boots off, while trying not to think about the fact she's sitting there in just a thin tank and a skimpy pair of shorts, which is all she wears under the fieldsuit when the weather's as hot as it is today.

He sets her boots aside, then tugs her pants off the rest of the way, before standing up. He's glad he's wearing jeans today because they hide the fact he's half-hard. He hates himself for the fact he's aroused, especially when Daisy's injured, but it's an involuntary reaction, and he's not going to ogle her. 

"I could use a bath," she tells him, and he nods understandingly – not only is the weather hot but she worked really hard to save the three youngsters, using her powers to save them after they jumped out of a fifth story window to escape the ignorant mob pursuing them, a mob which had intended to capture them, and would likely have killed them. He can still recall when she'd used her powers to save Roz Price after Lash threw her off that balcony, but this was even more amazing since it was three young, frightened children, not one panicky adult.

"I – uh – " She flushes, and he realises what she needs.

"Let me help you with that," he says, and she nods.

She gets to her feet and he follows her through to the bathroom, grateful that the Retreat's actually got a bathtub.

"Why don't you sit down while I run it?" he suggests, and the fact that she just sinks onto the chair without comment or objection tells him that she's feeling really crappy right now. He puts the stopper in, turns on both taps, then grabs a jar of bath salts that Elena bought her for her birthday from the shelf. He tips in a liberal amount, and the bathroom quickly fills with the scent of lavender. Daisy gets to her feet, and he grabs some towels and drops them onto the chair, dragging it closer to the bathtub, then he steps behind her, resting his hands lightly on the straps of her tank.

"Let me," he says, and she nods, so he eases the tank up and off, careful to keep his eyes on the back of her neck so that he won't get even a glimpse of her now bare breasts. "Can you manage the shorts?" 

"Yeah."

"Okay. And can you manage to wash the rest of you if I do your back?"

"I think so," she says.

"Okay."

He waits while she slips the shorts off, then holds out his arm – the left because it's stronger – for her to use for balance as she climbs into the tub. "Let me know when you're in," he tells her, and hears her chuckle again.

"I'm in. You closed your eyes," she says, and sounds quite amused by the fact.

"Of course," he says.

"God, Phil, you're unbelievable."

"Why?" he asks, a bit offended as he kneels down beside the bath and reaches for the washcloth and soap so he can do her back.

"I doubt many men would actually close their eyes in such a situation."

"Would you prefer me to ogle you?" he demands, nettled.

She carefully turns towards him. "You wouldn't ogle," she says, a statement of fact. 

"How can you be so sure?" he asks, aware that he can now see the curve of her breast and sure he's blushing as a consequence.

"Because that's not the kind of man you are," she says. "You'd look, and you'd admire, but you wouldn't ogle."

He swallows hard, then focuses his attention on the task at hand, washing her back thoroughly, but quickly. Once he's done that, he passes the washcloth to her, setting the soap back in its dish.

"While you do the rest, I'm going to check what supplies we've got," he tells her. "You need to eat and sleep."

"Yeah," she agrees. And he may not have her powers, her ability to read people's vibrations, but he can tell by the slump of her shoulders and the tone of her voice that she's exhausted.

"Shout if you need my help," he says, and gets to his feet. He briefly brushes his fingertips over the nape of her neck before he turns and goes out, heading towards the kitchen area.

They keep the cupboards stocked as the Retreat's become the place that he brings Daisy when she needs to rest and recover after a particularly tough mission, and while he stopped off for fresh bread, milk, and other necessities on the way from the airfield where May dropped them, he can't remember what was in the cupboards when they left after their last visit a couple of months ago.

When Daisy calls for him some twenty minutes later, he's got a meal on the go. He turns down the heat under the pan of pasta, then hurries into the bathroom.

"Daisy?"

"I need a hand getting back out," she tells him.

"Of course." He grabs the biggest of the towels and holds it up, spread open, as she gets to her feet, then he wraps it around her carefully before helping her out of the bath. He guides her back to the chair and once she sits down, he sets about drying her feet and legs, doing his best not to think about the fact that he's got his hands on her legs or that she's naked beneath the towel.

"Nice nail polish," he tells her, trying to distract himself as he takes note of the sky blue colour on her toes.

"Thanks." She sounds a bit less weary, and a bit more cheerful, he thinks, and hopes that's a result of the bath.

"Can you manage the rest?" he asks.

"Do my back, please?"

He nods, then helps her to stand again, and she unwraps the towel so that he can rub her back dry. "I've left things cooking," he tells her apologetically once he's done.

"It's fine, Phil."

He gives her a quick smile, then leaves her to finish drying herself off, before hurrying back to the food. He hears her go into the bedroom while he concentrates on finishing making dinner, and wonders if she can manage to dress without hurting herself, but she doesn't call for his help again, so he begins setting out plates and cutlery, along with glasses and napkins.

"Something smells good," she tells him as he's turning off the burners.

"Hopefully it tastes good, too," he says, then turns, and tries not to gape or stare. She's wearing a white tank instead of the black one she usually wears under her fieldsuit, and a pair of shorts, which aren't quite as skimpy as the ones she was wearing earlier, but which nevertheless leave a lot of her legs bare. She's also barefoot, and he forces himself to look away because otherwise, he's sure, she'll realise how turned on he is right now.

"Anything I can do?" she asks as crosses the room to join him.

"Nope," he says, his mouth feeling dry. "Have a seat and I'll serve this up."

She does, and he concentrates on getting the food onto the plates without dropping any dishes or pans, or spilling everything into her lap. Luckily he manages not to mess anything up, and within a few minutes they're seated together, Daisy at the head of the table, and Coulson around the corner from her.

"I love the way you've prepared the salmon," she tells him after swallowing a mouthful, and he gives her a smile. 

"Thanks."

He pours them both half a glass of wine, because she's earned it, and he knows she doesn't like to drink alone. It's only half a glass, though, because strictly speaking she shouldn't be drinking at all when she's also taking painkillers. At the same time, though, he knows that alcohol takes longer to affect Daisy because of her Inhuman biology than it does a regular human.

As they eat they talk of the just-completed mission, and he tells her that he had a text from Joey as he was finishing making dinner, and the younger man had reported their safe arrival at The Cocoon, and that their new guests seemed to be settling in okay.

"That's a weight off my mind," she tells him. "Thanks." She reaches over and briefly clasps his hand, and he's so glad that the bells and whistles of his most recent prosthetic (the sixth one now) means he can actually feel the warmth of her skin on his.

"You did a good job today," he tells her.

She doesn't argue, or deflect his praise, and he thinks about how much progress she's made in such things in the eighteen months since she took Hive apart. _Since Lincoln left_ , he thinks, and he knows that the young man's departure has actually been something of a blessing for Daisy since she no longer has to deal with his self-hatred, or the way he tended to undermine her confidence so often.

She eats two large servings of ice cream for dessert, and when he offers to make some coffee, she turns him down.

"I need to sleep," she says, "and coffee's not going to help with that."

"Okay." He starts gathering the plates and cutlery, prepatory to clearing the table, and she gets to her feet.

"Phil, can I – " She stops, and he looks up to see she's looking nervous. She huffs with obvious annoyance, then steps into his personal space, and he immediately wraps his arms around her.

She eventually pulls away, and he's a bit startled when she brushes her lips against the corner of his mouth before wishing him a goodnight, then moving towards the bedroom.

"Night Daisy."

As he washes up, he can't help thinking about her. She heals fast, his superhero agent, but there are vulnerable areas inside the powerful, disciplined young woman. He thinks perhaps there always will be, no matter how much confidence in herself she gains as she grows as an agent, a leader, and a woman. And those vulnerabilities tug at him, make him want to take care of her, comfort her, and do anything he can to spare her from further blows to her psyche. (He knows he can't protect her physically – the idea is ridiculous, but he wishes he could protect her emotionally.)

Once the washing up's done, he crosses the room and unfolds the futon that SHIELD bought to replace the old couch once they decided to start making regular use of the Retreat. He sits on the end of it and pulls off his shoes and socks, then his t-shirt before he stands up to take off his jeans. He straightens up afterwards and finds Daisy's looking at him from the doorway of the bedroom, and he's acutely conscious of the fact he's wearing nothing but his boxers.

"Daisy?" His voice comes out as more of a croak than anything.

"Sorry Phil. I just – " She pauses, swallows, shakes her head, then turns away, and he rushes across the room, forgetting his state of undress.

"What is it?" he asks anxiously, gently clasping her upper arms.

"I – Would you mind sleeping in with me tonight, please?"

He's startled by the request, but she so rarely asks him for anything that he can't refuse. "If that's what you want."

"I – Yeah, I don't really want to sleep alone tonight. Bad dreams."

"Okay," he says softly. "Let me just brush my teeth and stuff, and then I'll join you."

"Thank you." She moves back into the bedroom and he swallows hard, aware that this might be a really bad idea, but knowing he simply cannot refuse such a request if she's worried about having nightmares.

He grabs his toiletry bag from beside the futon, then folds the latter back up, before he heads into the bathroom to carry out his ablutions. When he knocks softly on the open bedroom door, Daisy looks up from where she's sitting at the head of the bed, her back to the wall, and a tablet in her hands.

"Phil." Her voice is quiet, and she sounds exhausted again, but she gives him a soft smile when he steps in and sets his toiletry bag on top of the dresser before crossing to the bed. "I didn't know which side you preferred," she tells him as she sets the tablet on the nightstand.

"Don't you have a preference?" he asks.

She shakes her head. "Miles preferred the left, Lincoln the right, and I've slept alone more often than with someone else."

"I'll take the right side," he says, "unless sleeping by the wall will make you feel boxed in?"

She shakes her head again. "No, it's okay." She glances up at the open window as she shifts across the bed. "Is that – " she begins.

"Having the window open is okay, Daisy," he tells her quickly. It worries him a bit, even though he knows it's typical Daisy behaviour, that she's more concerned with what he wants, even though this is always _her_ room when they're here.

He climbs onto the bed beside her, and she gives him a hesitant look. "What?"

"Do you usually sleep with the prosthetic on?" She asks the question quietly, and he can tell she's worried that it's too personal a question, even though they've always tended to be very close and personal (except for that time he was hiding the carving from her).

"I do lately," he tells her, which is the honest truth; it's felt better to leave it on and be prepared for the possibility of being yanked from his bed in order to rush off and try to save some more Inhumans.

She nods, and doesn't pry (and she would consider it prying, he knows) any further. She settles on her side on the far edge of the bed, and he switches off the lamp, says softly, "You don't have to lie all the way over there, you know. I don't bite."

She huffs out a laugh, then rolls over to lie on her other side, facing him. "I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable," she says.

"I'm not," he says, rolling onto his side to face her. "I couldn't feel uncomfortable sharing anything with you, Daisy, not any more."

"Oh. That's – wow, Phil, that's an amazing thing to say."

He shrugs. "It's the truth."

"You're a bit unreal, you know?"

He snorts out a laugh. "Me?" He can't believe her. "If anyone's unreal it's you."

"I'm real, Phil. See?" She shifts closer, and places her palm over his heart. 

He places his hand over hers and laces his fingers with hers. "Me too."

He's not hugely surprised when she leans in and brushes her lips over his. He murmurs appreciatively, then follows her mouth with his, before sliding his left arm under her body and easing her closer.

"C'mere," he growls, then kisses her properly. Her mouth opens easily under his, and she slips her tongue inside before he can, then she shifts even closer to him, pressing her chest to his so that he can feel her hard nipples through the thin cotton of her tank. He slides his left arm down her back, then splays his hand across her ass, pressing her lower body against his. She moans when she discovers how hard he is, then rolls him onto his back so she can straddle him, which makes him moan too – her weight on his erect cock is almost too much to bear. She distracts him, however, by tugging her tank off, and he has a brief moment of relief for the fact that she seems to have recovered from the double dislocation of her shoulders. 

It is only a moment, though, because he's distracted by the sight of her breasts. He reaches up to cup them, and she pushes her chest forward, moaning softly and rocking her body over his as her nipples stiffen to hard points against his hands.

"Phil, please."

She doesn’t need to articulate her desire for him to understand she wants his cock inside her, and he quickly unfastens her shorts, then helps her to get rid of them, and he stares at her in the dim light, taken aback by how absolutely gorgeous she is. She moves backwards so she can ease his prick free of his boxers, and he moans when he realises she's not even going to take them off. 

She clasps his cock carefully, then rubs the head up and down her slit, and he moans much more loudly this time.

"Please Daisy," he gasps, and she pushes herself up onto her knees, then lowers herself back down, guiding his cock deep into her sex.

"Fuck!" 

She looks startled by the profanity, then smirks, before beginning to move again, and he clasps her hips, holding her steady as she picks up the pace and rides him. She holds onto the headboard with her left hand while her right settles over his heart, which is pounding wildly in his chest.

She comes twice in quick succession before he finally comes himself, and he wraps his arms around her when she stretches out on top of him.

"Feeling better?" he asks.

She chuckles. "Oh yeah, Phil, loads better."

"Good." He kisses her forehead, then her mouth, and she fervently kisses him back, her tongue licking at the roof of his mouth. 

After a few minutes, and once his cock's soft, she rolls off him, then slides down to the end of the bed and climbs off. He's left feeling a bit uncertain for a little while before she returns with another washcloth, and she cleans him up, then herself, before climbing back onto the bed and snuggling up against him.

"No nightmares tonight, Phil," she says softly. "Thank you."

"Glad I could help with that," he tells her, and she huffs out a laugh, then shifts so that her left leg is draped over his lower body.

"G'night Phil."

"Night Daisy."

Sleep comes quickly, and as he slides under he can't help feeling glad they had already decided to spend a couple of days here at the Retreat – which will give them plenty of time to explore each other without having to worry about getting caught.

He's not glad that she got hurt, but he is very grateful for the opportunities that the situation's opened up.


End file.
